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World History, the short version
The world was originally known as Illswyn, a world not unlike other such inhabited planets scattered throughout the planes. It had been created in the beginning of time like those other worlds had been, seeded with people of various races and left to develop as worlds will do. Empires rose and fell, the peoples discovered new sciences and magics, they learned to live in harmony with their world as well as how to subjugate and conquer it. Magitech was glorious in its rise and civilizations rode dreams and hard work to the very stars themselves where the people spoke with gods and Otherworlders alike. When the fall of Illswyn happened, no one knew it was coming. Not the Inkashi (elves), not the winged sylphs of the air nor the dwarves of the earth. Man and elf alike were struck blind when the end arrived and when the dust settled the grand cities and kingdoms had become nothing at all but memories of grandeur and dust. All people were scattered in the debris of the Apocalypse, and there were no visions nor augurs to explain whether it was a plague, a war or an invasion that stole over three-quarters of the entire planet's population. Civilization was thrown into dark ages once more, worse for knowing what incredible heights they had ascended to and now all forced to dig deep into their histories to rebuild. Centuries passed and they came to know a new sort of renaissance again, with nature thriving lush and fertile around them and the new alchemists and magi rediscovering lost magics. It was during this rebirth that the world changed yet again. The only heralds this time were massive earthquakes in every corner of the world, great shakings that split continents apart and tore the oceans asunder. As soon as they had begun they abruptly stopped, the air growing so still and quiet it was as though the world's great heart had stopped beating in the core. A strange violet haze enveloped the sky like a clear and fragile bubble, and the people stood in every land to gaze at this new disaster. Those in the Northern Hemisphere had visonaries and seers who claimed the nearly black eye of a god gazed down upon them and that this surely must be the god that saved them in this newest catastrophe. The Southern Hemisphere's prophets and doomsayers claimed that it was a pair of hands that cradled the world , pale as death with talon like nails but yet protecting them and causing the earthquakes to cease. Two females then walked the planet to speak the truths, giantesses like demi-gods to preach the new faiths. '-The Sylph,' pale blue and white like a springtime's sky walked the North to speak of The Mark of Thought, and to inspire people to consider preserving what there was of their world and to heal it, reverting it to a vigor it had not had since before the first Apocalypse. Surely protecting and enclosing the world would be better, whether or not the peoples who lived there continued to thrive or not. '-The Maiden Unrequited,' softly shadowed black in her skin and hair walked the South to speak of The Mark of Soul, whispering to those who would listen that such disasters were just a sign that it was time to explore this world and wring every last bit of resource and energy from it because stagnation was a far greater disaster than earthquakes ever could be. The eye and hands in the world's skies faded from view and common memory, though became symbols for those who followed either the Mark of Thought or the Mark of Soul, respectively. Only a scant century has passed since this time, but the two females have disappeared from view and the collective memory to fade into myth. In the shadows, a third group has arisen, claiming to have the Mark of Heart and who believe in both protecting the now shattered lands and moving towards an unknown future . Illswyn has become Elsewhen for it is no longer the world it once was, and the violet force keeping the thousands of shattered land and ocean masses from disappearing into the darkness of oblivion has quieted the world's exploding heart, now just a firey glow in the center of the realms. A stone from this world's core now glows on the mantel of the main hearth in Mulligan's, the fortress-turned-Inn in the center of the village of Lochaven. Some say the stone pulses like a giant's heart, slow and deep in rhythm with the planet's core, and who are we to say no?